


my eyes don't shed tears, but, boy, they pour

by syrenhug



Series: thinkin about you [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Death, Misgendering, Nonbinary Character, Other, Slurs, Trans Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenhug/pseuds/syrenhug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you want to be a princess too, Haz?"</p><p>"No!" She raises an eyebrow. She's eight. "Of course not. Boys aren't princesses, Gemma. They can't be."</p>
            </blockquote>





	my eyes don't shed tears, but, boy, they pour

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly just follow me on tumblr/twitter @syrenhug so you can kick me into writing the next part in this shitty series and look for some upcoming edits and art for this one
> 
> but anyway i'd like to think frank ocean for this song and also zayn malik for existing and oh, yeah, God for zayn malik bless
> 
> there's a blink and you miss it mention of rape so like blink at the first few paragraphs, friends

_A tornado flew around my room before you came_  
_Excuse the mess it made, it usually doesn't rain_  
_In Southern California, much like Arizona_  
_My eyes don't shed tears, but, boy, they pour_

* * *

 

Music kind of creeps up on him.

As a kid, he'd preferred chasing his friends around town, acting out the part of reckless pre - teen with too many friends and a lot of time to kill. But, he hadn't been bad, really. He'd played around with his sister, kissed his mom on the cheek every night. He'd never wanted to hurt anyone, never wanted to see anyone in pain.

His mother would assure everyone who came 'round, "Harry wouldn't hurt a fly." And it was true.

Maybe that's why when his sister dies, raped and buried by a lake close to their house, he still doesn't get it.

It takes him weeks, months, years for him to begin to even fathom the thought of someone wanting to do that to someone. Much less a fourteen year old.

Much less his sister.

* * *

But. Music. Right.

He's really not much fun after all of it, so he starts senior year forgetting dates and times and just knows the different patterns of sounds. The Cure bleeds into Ed Sheeran who scrapes into Maxwell who saws into Sia who shelters Bjork.

It's not forgetting, but it's close.

* * *

The Black Kids are what starts to make him feel more comfortable with everything.

_You are the girl, I've been dreaming of, every since I was a little girl._

It's interesting because he'd assumed from their voice, that they were male, and maybe they are - but it's not. It's not really his assumption to make.

Harry likes that. It's something he's never really thought of before.

He's not someone's assumption to make.

* * *

 _"_ Mom, can I talk you?"

She doesn't turn around from the stove. It smells like lemon roasted chicken and mashed potatoes. Gemma's favorite. "Of course, honey."

"Can you call me she? Like, sometimes."

His mom turns. "Oh."

It's not a bad oh or a _oh_ oh but it still makes him flush, Still makes his hands curl on the edge of the table, ready to run. Ready to let it go.

"Of course, honey." It sounds like a question. He doesn't know how to respond, really.

He wishes there was a guide for being this, but there's not. Just the knowledge that he can't be the only one.

"Dinner smells good." Harry answers. "Let me know when it's ready."

* * *

That night, his mom doesn't come in to say goodnight, but he hears her footsteps in front of his door.

_Did his mom know, when she'd buried a daughter, she would end up with another one?_

She doesn't stay for long. Harry hears her steps fade into the next room and he decides to try and get some sleep.

* * *

(Harry is ten and Gemma is dancing around the living room with a tiara and lipstick on, singing a song that they shouldn't probably know the words to at their age.

"Come on, Haz." She yells, jumping on the couch. Her eyes are big, lined with ice blue eyeliner and white eyeshadow.

He knows because he watched his mother put it on her, flushed when she'd offered to put some on him, too.

"Mom told you not to jump on the couch." He feels awkward. Unsettled.

She stops jumping. Cocks her head. She's eight, yet still acts like she's forty years old.

He can't stand her.

"Do you want to be a princess too, Haz?"

"No!" She raises an eyebrow. She's _eight_. "Of course not. Boys aren't princesses, Gemma. They can't be."

He doesn't know why, though. A kid came to school a few months ago wearing nail polish, hair curled in waves and everyone had a fit. He didn't see the big deal, but he heard the kid's whisper words like _fag_ and _wants to be a girl_ and it's just. Wrong.

And now she's frowning. "Anybody can be a princess. Just ask mommy."

"Gemma, no."

He grabs her before she runs out of the room, pressing his fingers into her stomach. Harry doesn't want to hurt her, just wants to keep her there. "Gemma. Don't."

"Why are you so afraid, Harry?" Now, she sounds irritated.

"I'm not. Just leave it alone."

He storms out, ignoring her calls to come back.)

* * *

He does wonder, when he got so afraid.

* * *

"Harry?"

His fourth period teacher, Ms. Hill, is frowning when he stops and looks back at her.

"Yeah?"

It comes out slow and rough; the kind of music he's always wanted to make.

Ms. Hill bites her lip. He'd always thought she was beautiful. The kind that people wrote about in novels. Tiny, sweet and blonde.

"I'm so sorry about your sister. I never got to tell you that."

A lot of people forgot to tell him. He can tell by the way they tilt their head when he walks by, though, whenever they try to invite him into a conversation, but he doesn't know what to say.

"It's fine." He says, and when she nods and smiles, he desperately wishes it were true.

* * *

girl, she, she, girl, woman woman woman princess woman girl

woman

woman.

* * *

His arms are hairy and his jawline so fucking prominent, voice deep and worse when he wakes up. But he believes in things.

She believes that she can be a beautiful thing.

* * *

Harry declares her major in Psychology.

She likes to think that maybe her sister would be proud of her.

* * *

The person beside her won't stop moving or fiddling with their pencil and finally she has to ask (quiet, because they're close to the front), "Do you mind, um, not moving?"

They straighten up. Let the pencil go with a soft clatter. "Fuck, yeah, sorry."

"It's fine." She assures. Because it is. There are parts of yourself that you can't help being. It just sucks that it fucks up her concentration.

And, they, right in the middle of a lecture, stick out their hand and smile. "Hey, I'm Niall."

"Oh," She shakes their hand. "I'm Harry, but you can call me Haz."

"Nice too meet you, Haz."

"Would you guys shut up?" Someone snaps behind them, very loudly, and Niall laughs.

"Nice to meet you, too."

* * *

She tries to hide it, for awhile, just because she's not sure of the reaction. But she and Niall are hanging out in her dorm, and they ask, "So, um, what are your pronouns?"

"Oh!" She swallows. "She/her. You?"

They nod. "Nice. Mine change, I guess. Right now it's he/him, though."

"Wow. That's so cool." Then she ducks her head because _wow, weird_. But Niall only laughs.

"Your cool. Are you trans? Like, a trans woman?"

"Kind of? I don't know, I'm still trying to figure it out."

He purses his lips. Shrugs. "Aren't we all?"

* * *

She's always wanted a brother, someone to hang out with and talk to. Niall creeps in the position without her even knowing it.

When she starts exploring her presentation, tying head scarves in her hair and donning different colors of nail polish every Friday, people seem to have a lot of opinions about it. She learns to ignore it, carry on, but Niall seems to make it his personal mission to hunt them down and say something.

"You don't have to do that." She tells him. His lip is bleeding, and he keeps rubbing his shoulder, but he shakes his head.

"Fuck it. It's not right. You don't deserve that."

There are a lot of people who don't deserve a lot of things, is the things. Her mom didn't deserve her dad leaving. They didn't deserve to wake up to a phone call tell ingthem that someone they loved had been torn apart and then left to struggle.

"Niall, " She wraps her hand around his wrist. His knuckles are cut - bleeding. She kisses them. "Thank you. But. Let it be. For me, yeah?"

He squints. "Alright. You're one kind soul, you are."

"I love you, too." She smiles. And Niall smiles back - fast and easy.

She really has always wanted a brother.

* * *

"My sister's sick."

They both look over at Louis. He's scrubbing down the tables with a rag. Pointedly not looking their way. She frowns. "Like, wicked sick or?"

"No, Haz, not wicked sick."

"Oh," Then, she realizes. Niall still looks confused. "Oh, no, Lou."

"She's going to be fine. She has heart problems. It's just rare in people so young. She's going to be okay."

Her heart breaks for him. Harry doesn't pray often, but she will, for Louis and his sister. "Of course. I hope to meet her sometime."

"You will." Louis promises, and then moves on to the next section.

* * *

Louis takes longer to filter in, but it makes sense: he's not the type to do anything in halves.

"Haz, I love you." Niall confesses after two shots and one hit of whatever Louis brought in for them to smoke. The loft is almost unbearably cold, evident by how many sweaters they all have on. Except Niall. Who's just fucking weird.

She can't help the grin, though, and - "I love you, too, babe."

"What about me?" Louis whines. Any other time she would've brushed it off as playful, but his eyes are tired and she knows his sister isn't doing well and.

Harry loves them. Her boys. So she scoots over on the carpet and lays her head on his knee.

"We love you, too, Lou."

"Well," His eyes do that sweet little crinkle. Niall is starting an awful rendition of Partition and he snorts. "That's good."

And it is.

* * *

"I'm bored."

"You're always bored."

Niall pouts. Then brightens. "Let's paint each other's nails."

"Um," She stops. Tries to remember when her life became a shitty girl's sleepover movie.

"You know you want to." He sings, and well, yes.

So Niall ends up with blue nail polish ("It goes well with your eyes.") and she ends up painting hers' lime green to match his. When Louis sees it, the next day, he scowls.

"Why wasn't I invited to this party?"

So Louis ends up with aqua, somewhere between blue and green. His nails are shorter then her own, but better taken care of then Niall's.

It looks good. They look good.

* * *

Nail polish becomes their thing.

* * *

Louis keeps making growling noises and Niall looks like he's five minutes away from killing him.

"Go get him, tiger. Haz, tell him."

"Don't bring sweet Harry into this." His skin his flushed and keeps tapping his fingers like he's waiting for a moment to escape. Harry cranes her neck and finds the dark - haired pair. They're hanging by the bar. Heads tilted towards each other. _Cute_ , she thinks. Then one of them catches her eye and -

Fuck. Wow.

"They could be dating." She points out, after turning away. Takes a sip of her virgin margarita. Louis rolls his eyes.

"So. Polyamory is incredible and very much alive."

"Oooh. Got something to tell us, Lou?"

Her friend sneers. "Why, Haz, want some tips?"

Niall suddenly straightens up and hisses, "Shhh! They're coming over here. I swear to God if you two embarrass me - "

"You better not be looking at me, you fucking - "

"Oh my God, shut up."

They go quiet. Haz stares at her nails. The table is shaking so she thinks Louis might be laughing. And then -

"So you guys have been staring at us."

Harry thinks that maybe she swoons, a little, and she really hopes Niall isn't going for this one because they're _so_.

She didn't even know she had a type, but they're it. Pretty amber eyes, ruffled dark hair. Tall, dark, handsome.

The other one is cute. Like a puppy. She wants to ruffle their hair. Aw.

Louis whispers something that sounds like _wipe your mouth, Haz, you're drooling_.

One day her and Louis are going to go outside and fight.

"There's only one guy here and that's the douche who has so many eye crinkles one time I offered to iron them for him." Niall is joking, but his tone is defensive. The _guys_ was presumptuous and Niall hates when people assume.

She really loves her boys.

"Say it again, Niall, I don't think they heard you in Antarctica."

Niall sticks out his tongue.

"I'm Zayn." Tall/dark/handsome gestures to their chest. Then to their friend. "That's Liam."

"Oh, um." She rasps, and Zayn just fixes their eyes on her. "If you don't mind, what are your pronouns?"

Liam clears their throat. Niall mouths _that one's a cishet_ and she coughs. "I'm a boy. So he, ya know."

Which is, um, no? Even Louis winces.

Zayn looks embarrassed by their friend. "Oh, they/them for me."

"Welcome to the trans club! I love new members." Niall gestures for them to pull up chairs. "I'm Niall and I'm gay."

"So gay."

"The gay - est." Harry affirms.

Liam looks scandalized. "I'm not gay."

"Intriguing. Do tell us more." Louis leans forward, his _wow I really don't like you, but I'm just trying to be sweet about it_ face on. Niall nods.

"You're cis and het, how fascinating."

Zayn snorts, rolling a straw package between his - _their_ - fingers, and she intervenes. "Leave him be. He's just a kid, he doesn't know any better."

Liam frowns. They back off. At least, Niall does.

"Where do ya go to school?"

"Twenty minutes from here."

"Aye, so do we!" Niall claps Liam on the back. Harry is going to have to have a talk about boundaries and touch consent with him later on.

Louis still isn't sold, crossing his arms on the table. "You both like sports?"

"Yeah."

Harry snores, grinning when she's elbowed in the side. Nice.

* * *

So now it's not just LouisHarryNiall, it's LouisHarryNiallZaynLiam.

* * *

She doesn't know when she started looking at Zayn, but their looking back, and it's suddenly it's something.

Niall tells her, "Just get married already." and Louis rolls his eyes, but agrees.

It's like. Yeah, she wants to date him - shit, _them_. Hold their hands, cuddle with them on the couch while watching Love Actually (even though she knows they hate that movie). But she doesn't want to fuck them. Maybe there's something wrong with that, with her.

* * *

Louis tells her they need to talk and pulls out his laptop.

"Sorry, love, but if this is another attempt to get me to watch porn, then, it's still no."

He gives him a look. "That was one time - "

"An experience I will never forget."

"And no, that's not what this is about."

He types something in, turns the laptop screen around. "Read this."

"Okay." She frowns down, confused. "Asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction in anyone, or low or absent interest in sexual activity. Louis, what - "

"It's pretty obvious you like, Zayn, love. But, I think, maybe there's a reason your hesitating?"

The bed cover is pretty. All teal and gold. She tucks her curls behind her ear and watches the sunlight from the window set the colors alight. "Like, I wonder if it's because of my sister. That I don't want to."

"I mean. Even if that's true, it doesn't make it any less? If that's who you are, that's who you are." Louis shrugs. "I'm aromantic and I thought the same for a bit. But who cares, I guess."

Harry knows what that is. Someone who doesn't experience romantic attraction. She thinks it's cool. But that's Louis. This is her.

She realizes how hypocritical that is, but she never said she was perfect.

"I'll think about it. I just - need some time. But, thank you."

* * *

Liam is okay, she supposes. She's never hung around him - he's more Zayn's friend then any of theirs - but he's been nothing but decent to them.

Harry notices that he's pretty dodgy on her pronouns. Like, really dodgy. And it kind of rubs her wrong, if she's going to be honest.

So she catches him as they're leaving The Restaurant, heading to their cars. She's not mad, or anything. Just uncomfortable.

"Hey, I understand that it's different then your used to, but please use my pronouns. Like correctly."

He holds up his hands. His cheeks are flushed cherry red from the cold. "No need to get stroppy, mate. I'm just not used to this."

Um. Okay. Has he or has he not been friends with Zayn for years? "I'm not your mate, Liam. I do understand that it's difficult at first, but it's just respectful."

"Like I said, I'm just not used to it." He says slowly. Like she's making too much out of it.

She leaves before she can do something she'll regret later.

Harry goes to her dorm and writes a song called Cis Boy Scum just to make herself feel better.

* * *

She doesn't want to make it a huge deal, but. Yeah, okay, she tells Zayn.

The only class they share is Biology (which she bites at, but whatever) and she usually doesn't sit with them. Harry inches forward, setting her bag down on the table. They look up from their book and raise an eyebrow.

"Decided to grace me with your presence?"

"Um," She flushes. "I'm really sorry. I didn't know if you wanted me to sit with you or not."

They close their book slowly. Dog ears page 120. She usually hates people who do that. "We friends?"

"Yeah. I mean, you want to be?"

"Answer my question first."

"Yes." Harry confirms, and they gesture for her to sit.

Seats don't agree with her. Gravity doesn't agree with her, yeah and life definitely doesn't agree with her. But, seats. Like, hate her. Zayn laughs when she misses the plastic by inches.

"Nice." They say. It feels like they're talking about more then her clumsiness.

"I know."

They go silent. Harry notices their chin is scruffy from not shaving, eyelashes long and shadowing against their cheek as they peer at different corners of the classroom. The lecture is about to start.

"So what do you want?"

She tries to look affronted. "Excuse me?"

"Spit it out, we haven't all day."

They look more amused the anything so she owns up. "Okay, so Liam won't use my pronouns and I wondered if you minded talking to him. I tried, but I don't know him very well."

"Shit, Haz, of course." Zayn straightens up. Pushes a hand through their hair, tense all of a sudden. "I'm sorry."

"Not really your thing to apologize for, is it?" She asks, and they relax. "Now, shhh. Mr. Grumpy is about to bore us to death for an hour."

Their eyes crinkle at the corner when they laugh and. Harry really really likes Zayn.

* * *

Liam stops hanging around with them, and she can't say she's sad to see him go.

* * *

Somehow it's break and her mom is inviting them to theirs for a week.

"Mother, I'm sure they have other plans."

"Harry Styles." She starts, and Harry immediately invites everyone.

"Party at Styles' house, hell yeah!" Niall jumps up, banging his head up and down. Zayn looks confused, Louis disgusted.

"Do we have to take him?"

She grins. "My mom did say everyone, but she hasn't met Niall so there's still time."

"Fuck off, mate." Niall lunges at her.

Five minutes later, they're all breathing hard, laying flat on the floor. Harry loves this. It feels like. Family.

"Is this the part where we have an orgy cause I'm not sure I'd be into that." Niall wonders, breathless.

Louis tilts his head and laughs. "I might be. As long as Harry is involved, I'm there."

"Oh, shut up." Zayn and Harry say simultaneously. She flushes at the look Louis shoots her way.

"I'm glad you all are coming." She doesn't mean to let it slip out - It's so sappy. But Zayn reaches past Niall to drag their knuckles against her cheek softly and wow, she doesn't regret it at all.

"Honestly, you two are so gay."

Well. Not much.

* * *

It's kind of Harry who starts it first. She's just humming along to the radio and Louis jumps in.

"When I wake up, I'm afraid somebody else might take my place."

Niall kicks their seats. "This is not that kind of car ride, you all."

"Your voices sound good together." Zayn says quietly, the car hushing. Everyone always stops and listens when Zayn talks.

"Thanks. Maybe we'll start a band."

Louis grimaces. "Not that kind of movie, Haz."

"Aw." She pouts. She loves High School Musical.

* * *

Zayn looks good in anything, but wearing a big, fluffy grey sweater and black leggings? She's practically sweating.

"Climb them like a tree." Louis whispers, leaning towards her over the table. She glares. Thankfully, Zayn and her mom are talking, but Niall smirks at them. Holds up his thumbs.

No offense, but she can't stand her friends.

The food is great (her mom is A++) and the conversation is light and simple. There are only a few times where she has to pause, the image of Gemma sitting there, laughing too, dancing behind her eyelids.

"I'll help with the dishes, Anne." Niall offers when she heads to the kitchen. Louis follows, winking. Ugh. Gross.

Zayn is looking at her. _Look away, look away_ , she begs, but they're heavy on her, like a coat.

"Zayn - "

"Haz - "

They laugh. She gestures for them to go first.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what happened to your sister."

She bites her lip. It feels good to be back home. But hard, in someway. Like longing for things that aren't really gone, just misplaced. "Thanks. Do you - do you want to see her room?"

* * *

Harry hasn't been in Gemma's room in, wow. A long time.

It's clean, all traces of a person gone. But there's a doll sitting on dresser. Some stickers, she knows, stuck inside the drawers. It will never be anyone else's room but her sister's.

Zayn fits here. He's not touching anything. Just looking.

Wow.

She wants to lean forward, soft and quiet like the light over them. Wants to know if they'll accept the things she can give without asking for more. So she kisses them.

Zayn curls their hand around her waist, brushes their noses together until she has to laugh - a tiny huff against their lips. She's probably not too into kissing, but she's into them.

"What was that for?" They say, body still pressed tight against hers'.

"Thought I'd say hi."

They snort. "Hello."

"Do you, like, like like me?"

"What is this 1st grade?" Zayn's mouth curves up so nicely she has to kiss them again. They're about the same height. Perfect.

"Maybe." She shakes her head. "Answer the question."

"Yeah. I like like you."

Harry does a little wiggles, accidently stepping on Zayn's feet. Oops. "Sweet."

"Yeah. You are."

She thinks, _Christ, that's cheesy_ and _awwww_ , all at once.

Good times.

**Author's Note:**

> wow what a cheese ending [eats some pie] later xoxo


End file.
